Texas Proud and Circle of Gold (Long, Tall Texans #52) - Diana Palmer Page 0,22

you were.”

Mikey felt sick to his stomach, although nothing showed in that poker face. “I suppose that’s true,” he said heavily.

“I’ve never lost a person I was protecting yet,” US Marshal McLeod interjected. He was tall and husky like Mikey, but he had pale gray eyes in a face like stone and a .357 Magnum in a leather holster at his waist.

“You and that damned cannon,” Paul muttered. “Why don’t you move into the twenty-first century, McLeod, and sport a piece that didn’t come out of the eighties?”

“It’s a fine gun,” McLeod said quietly. “It belonged to my father. He was killed in the line of duty, working for our local sheriff’s office back home.”

“Sorry,” Paul said sheepishly.

McLeod shrugged. “No problem.”

“I hope you got earplugs when you have to shoot that thing,” Mikey mused.

“I got some, but if I take time to put them in, I’ll be wearing them on the other side of the dirt.”

Mikey chuckled. “Good point.”

“Where’s your piece?” Paul asked suspiciously.

“My piece?” Mikey opened his suit coat. “I don’t carry a gun, Paulie. You know that.”

“I know that you’d better get a Texas permit for that big .45 you keep in your car, before Cash Grier knows you don’t have one,” Paul said with a smirk.

Mikey sighed. “I was just thinking about that the other day. So. Where’s Cotillo?”

There was a round of sighs. “Well, he was in Newark,” McLeod said. “I checked with our office there, but he’s out of sight now. Nobody knows where he went. We have people checking,” he added. “One of our guys has a Confidential Informant who’s close to him. We’ll find him.”

“It’s his contract killer we need to find,” Paul interrupted. “If he offs Mikey, we have no case, and Tony Garza will go down like a sack of beans for murder one.”

“Speaking just for myself, I’d prefer to live a few more years,” Mikey mused.

“Especially since you have a hot date tomorrow night, I hear?” Paul said with an unholy grin.

Mikey embarrassed himself by flushing. The tint was noticeable even with his olive complexion.

“Hot date?” Jon asked.

Mikey cleared his throat. “She’s a nice girl. Works as a paralegal for the district attorney’s office in Jacobsville.”

“Bernie,” Paul said.

There were curious looks.

“Bernadette,” Mikey muttered. “It’s short for Bernadette.”

“Pretty name,” Jon said.

“She’s a sweetheart,” Paul told them. “Takes a real load off the district attorney, and the other women who work in the office love her, especially my wife.” He glanced at Mikey. “Which begs the question, why don’t you ever bring her over to the house to eat? You know Mandy wouldn’t mind cooking extra.”

Mikey shifted his feet. “It’s early days yet. I just asked her to a movie.”

“A drive-in, at that,” Paul mentioned with a grin.

“You’ve got a drive-in theater in Jacobsville?” Jon exclaimed. “They went out in the fifties, didn’t they?”

“In the sixties, mostly, but we’ve got a local guy who’s trying to bring them back. He even built a small café on the premises with restrooms and pizza. So far, he’s a raging success.”

“My dad talked about going to drive-ins,” McLeod mused. “He said it was the only place he could kiss my mother without half-a-dozen people watching. Big family,” he added.

“I can’t place that accent, McLeod,” Paul said. “You sound Southern, but it’s not really a Texas accent.”

“North Carolina,” McLeod said. “My people go back five generations there in the mountains. The first were Highlanders from Argyll in Scotland.”

“Mine came from Greece and Italy,” Paul said. “Well, mine and Mikey’s,” he added with a glance at his cousin.

“Mine met the boat yours came over on,” Jon said with a straight face. He was part Lakota Sioux.

There was a round of laughter.

“I have some Cherokee blood in my family,” McLeod volunteered. “My great-grandmother was Bird Clan. But we’re mostly Scots.”

“Can you play the pipes?” Jon asked curiously.

McLeod shrugged. “Enough to make the neighbors uncomfortable, anyway.”

“I had a set of trap drums,” Paul recalled wistfully. “We had some really loud, obnoxious neighbors upstairs when I lived in Newark, long before I moved here.” He didn’t add that at the time he’d had a wife and child who were killed by operatives of a man he put in prison. “I was terrible at playing, but it sure shut the upstairs neighbor up.”

“You bad boy,” Mikey teased.

“A man has to have a few weapons,” he said drolly.

“Back to Cotillo,” McLeod said. “We have someone watching you from our service down in Jacobsville. You don’t need to know who, but we’re on